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Camp At Arrow's Watch
'Arrow's Watch ' ---- ::Moving past the base of Arrow's Watch, one enters the ruins themselves and thus the outer-ring of the one daunting Watchtower: the eight columns that once supported a sturdy rooftop, which has since weakened, and some walls between, little of which remains today. Ornate lettering and symbols were once inscribed into the pitted stone, and so carefully was the craft completed that many of the ancient messages and lore are still readable to the keen of eye. The remains of stairs wind upwards to a mysterious destination. Those who dare to walk them now risk the peril of tumbling down. ::Stepping through the gaping maw between one of the many columns, one can see a broken iron hinge or two, suggesting that doors may have once shielded the interior from view where walls had not been erected. Faded colors of stone smoothed by centuries of pacing feet welcomes you inside with cool serenity. ::At the very center of the ruins, a tribute to perhaps the founding Emperor stands with his right hand clenched around a now invisible sword to point it skyward, though remaining a venerable figure all the same. Behind this statue, one can find a more recent edition: The Shrine of the Horsemaster. ---- Vhramis has taken refuge atop the hill by Apple Village this foggy evening, sitting on a small stone in the ruins of Arrow's Watch. The fire burning in the middle of the ruins causes shadows to dance and play against the remaining standing walls. The man himself stares at the fire, occationally turning a sturdy stick which has an impaled bird of some sort on it, roasting in the fire. It is, perhaps, the friendly fire and the smell of roasting fowl that has drawn another visitor this night, Ashlynn's voice floating out softly from amongst the trees as she approaches his back. "Good eve, traveler - I wonder if you would mind sharing the light and perhaps a leg or wing in exchange for some fresh apples...?" Twisting half about with a start, Vhramis stares at a blank spot of wall, still not being able to see the approaching woman. Though he smiles slightly, allowing the silence to hang for a brief moment before he responds. "Be welcome to my fire," he replies with a nod, waiting to see how she reacts. Ashlynn has paused at the edge of the clearing by now, a small sack filled with lumpy things hanging from one hand by her side as se waits for an invitation or refusal. But it nearly slips from her grasp as he speaks, her face going blank and eyes blinking in the light of the fire, before she belatedly realizes whose silhouette it is that sits between her and the flames. "Vhramis?" she whispers disbelievingly before she finally does just drop the sack and stride quickly toward him. "/Wolf/!" cries out a sudden voice from a black avian form, flying over the top of the ruins, before perching on some of the higher bits of rubble. The raven quirks his head as he peers down at the pair, especially the sack that Ashlynn carries, before quorking. "Corn?" it asks/demands. Vhramis, meanwhile, ignores Medivh, rising to his feet and turning about fully. "I was so worried, Ash," he states, suddenly seeming to not entirely know what to say, his smile fading. "I was almost trying to find a way in." There is a startled moment in which Ashlynn jerks to a stop, glancing sharply around until she realizes the second voice comes from the black bird. She stares at the raven a moment before she gives in to a nervous-sounding chuckle, as if not quite trusting of her own sense of humor, before Vhramis' words pulls her attention back to him. The raven immediately forgotten by her as well, she simply shakes her head and heedlessly moves to throw her arms around him for a fierce embrace. Disgusted by the slow service of the pair, Medivh instead flies down to the ground, landing near the bag. Tilting his head, he hops sideways towards it hesitantly, before attempting to get his head inside of it. Vhramis' arms slide in return, his own hug just as fierce and needful. "Are...you hurt? Did he hurt you?" he mutters into her hair, his eyes glistening slightly in the dim light provided by the fire. "Serath..." The sack proves somewhat reluctant. A drawstring, though not knotted, has been pulled tight around the opening, through which the crisp scent of freshly picked apples wafts. Ashlynn drags in a deep, trembling breath, before she buries her head further into his shoulder and whispers back brokenly, "Only wounded in pride and spirit. Serath...I did not dare ask about Serath. Have you...have you managed to hear word...?" Something as inconsequental as a drawstring is not likely to stop the Dark Savior of Fastheld. The bird quorks at the sack in question, possibly demanding that it open itself for him, before pushing his beak stubbornly against it. "No word. Aside from everyone stating that they believe him dead. Dead long before we returned," he states, some bitterness entering his voice. "I wrote...I write the truth. And spread it where I can. But they ignore me. I don't know how to make them listen, Ash." Oh, the sack is reluctant, to be sure, knowing that its contents are tobe pilfered! Nevertheless, no matter how grudging their retreat, the mouth eventually loosens before the raven's incessant wrigglings. Ashlynn sucks in a sharp breath, and pulls back far enough to gaze up at him with a frightened gaze, hands framing his face. "It was you who wrote that?" She seems to fight against a natural urge to snap about the dangers of riling Zolor's attention, before she bites her lip and manages a weak, wan smile. "Your penmanship has improved," she finally says instead, and sinks back against his shoulder, releasing a long breath and most of the tension from her body. "It sounds like everyone doesn't *want* the truth. It infuriates me...first they want Talus back so badly that they dragged him from Crown's Refuge...and now everyone is happy to hand everything to Zolor." The quork that Medivh lets fly could be of triumph. Or it could just be the bird making more noise. Regardless, seeing the sack begin to open spurs the bird on, even if it doesn't fully know what it's doing. Vhramis is unable to help but smile sheepishly at Ashlynn in return for her penmanship comment. "They don't know what they want, I believe," he answers, moving her backwards with him towards the fire, and gradually urging her to take a seat on the flat stone with him. "They need to know Serath lives, though. Or...did, at least." That thought seems to unsettle him. "What of the babe? I planned on writing on him next. To ask what excuse Zolor will give if he mysteriously passes as well. In as much to try to trap him from hurting my nephew." And that is when the sack's trap is sprung, as the loose folds bellow up with the raven's squirmings and then fall back down in heavy wrinkles, enfolding the bird within an apple-scented darkness deeper than its feathers. Ashlynn follows his ushering, sinking down into a limp seat upon the stone before his pronouncement has her glancing up sharply with new concern. "Vhramis...perhaps it is better not to be so bold with such things. It will only keep him on the alert, and put you in potential danger. I...I tried to bargain for a place by little Talus' side, but he would have none of it. I agree that people should remember, and see that there is still opposition...but I'm afraid," she ends in a whisper, touching his cheek. "I want things to go *right* for once." "I'm afraid also," Vhramis admits in a hushed voice, looking sadly to her and leaning into the light touch. "This is all so wrong." And that's when Medivh begins to panic, having found himself trapped in the bag. An explosion of motion bursts in the bag as he flaps his wings frantically, not quite getting anywhere, and begins shrieking in panic. Vhramis winces visibly, craning his head about to scowl at the bag. Ashlynn jumps badly at the wild flapping and squawks, even muffled as they are, her gaze whipping back to the heaving sack before she manages to suck in a breath or two and laugh with a half-hysterical edge, "The apples! It's going to eat my apples! Or they are going to eat it..." she quips, scrambling to her feet to liberate the panicked raven. Vhramis groans in annoyance as he rises also. "Watch his beak when he gets like this. It's sharp, and he lashes," he states from experience, before reaching down to help open the bag. His hands are gloved at least. Though the whole situation does bring a bit of a half amused smile to his face, the man looking to his companion. "It's business as usual with me, isn't it, Ash?" Ashlynn takes his words to heart and simply moves to untangle the folds, gingerly tipping the sack so that raven might be encouraged to head toward the opening. Of course, this would also encourage the apples within to roll toward the same exit, but she has not enough mind yet to be concerned by it, particularly when distracted by Vhramis' last quip. Glancing up with a blink, she eventually chuckles, finally relaxing into a genuine smile. "Always stumbling from one accident to the next." "And one paniced animal from the next," Vhramis agrees as the bird settles down, having seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Or sack, as it were. And, thus, when the bird comes hopping calmly out, and looks up to quork curiously at the man, he reaches down to flick a finger against the side of it's head. With a shriek, Medivh takes off again, flying off into the night. "I can't get rid of him," he tells her. Category:Logs